


Breakfast in Bed

by glocktopus



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Breakfast in Bed, F/F, Family Dynamics, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 19:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17710082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glocktopus/pseuds/glocktopus
Summary: Early Splatfest morning, two kids attempt a surprise.The keyword isattempt.





	Breakfast in Bed

“We _can_ use the batter for both, right?”

“Uh...I think so.”

The once-pristine kitchen counter is now liberally coated in a mixture of flour, sugar, and egg residue, scraps of paper towels stuck here and there in an abandoned attempt to get rid of some of the mess. A few sticks of butter sit by the stove, half-melted from the heat coming off the surface. Prince squints at his phone - propped up on an oven mitt next to the waffle iron - as he stirs the batter.

“The recipe doesn’t actually say, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. How’s the pan?”

“Hot.” Eight flicks his fingers a few times, trying to dispel the memory of heat. Maybe touching it wasn’t such a good idea, but he’d be the first to admit he wasn’t exactly good with cookware. “We butter it up and put the batter in next, right?”

“Mmhm. I mixed all the lumps out.”

“Okay, uh- think you can handle the waffle iron?”

“Probably!”

Eight burns the first pancake and undercooks the next. Prince forgets to grease the waffle iron after waffle number three and the batter gets stuck to the grooves and the smell is horrible, and Eight nearly burns another pancake trying to help Prince chip out the sad waffle remains with an old knife, and the nice Splatfest-morning breakfast surprise they’d had planned is going downhill very fast when the sound of someone clearing their throat comes from behind them.

The two boys turn, slowly, eyes wide. Emperor is leaning on the island, taking in the slightly-smouldering sight with a raised brow.

“Do I want,” he begins, “to know what you two are doing in the kitchen _at four in the morning?_ ”

In the pan, a dying pancake makes one last sizzle of longing for a life that never was.

“It was my idea!” Eight says quickly, before Prince can protest. “I wanted- It’s a breakfast Splatfest, right? I thought it would be nice to make everyone breakfast in bed, but I don’t know how to cook-“

“And neither does he.” Emperor interrupts, pushing off the island and plucking the knife out of Prince’s hand. He reaches past the two of them to unplug the waffle iron, expression carefully neutral. “Leave that, it’s ruined. We’ll have to get a new one.”

“But we only made three waffles-“

“So we’ll only have three waffles.” Emperor places the knife in the sink and rolls up the sleeves of his nightshirt, grabbing the pan and dumping the poor burnt pancake within into the trash bin. “Eight, you need to flip the pancakes when they get a _little_ brown on one side. Don’t wait until they start going hard like that.”

“Uh- okay. ...You’re helping?” 

“The alternative would be watching the two of you burn my sister’s house down,” Emperor says breezily, motioning at the butter. “Which, while entertaining, would not be worth the resulting headache. Hand me that and the batter- which it seems you overmixed, by the way.”

Eight wordlessly passes him the butter and batter as Prince begins to try and clean off the counters. Emperor is...actually pretty good at this, effortlessly flipping pancakes without even needing to use a spatula. Compared to Eight’s attempts, Emperor’s pancakes are...well, _pancakes_. It looks too easy for how much trouble Eight had been having earlier, and he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

“Eight.” Emperor is still busy with the pancakes, not even looking up, but his tone is the one he uses during turf war - sharp, commanding. Eight stands a little straighter. “You will get better at this, in time. You’re part of my family now, and we’re not known to be second-best at anything.” Another pancake slides out of the pan and onto the stack awaiting it by the stove. “Even if that thing is making what is, frankly, an absurd amount of food at a ridiculously early hour.”

“...Thanks?” Eight’s not entirely sure if that was meant to be a compliment or a veiled threat, but Prince is giving him a thumbs-up (or trying to; his arms are full of syrup and jam and whipped cream from the fridge) as he walks behind his big brother so it’s probably a good thing. Hopefully. 

An hour and some passes, and the impressively-stacked pancakes and less-impressively stacked waffles are laid upon a tray and then surrounded by their accoutrements. Eight begins the slow and incredibly careful balancing act of bringing it up the flight of stairs to Pearl and Marina’s room, having to stop once when Prince realises he forgot to grab silverware and has to dash back to the kitchen to grab some. The two of them wait on the landing while Emperor knocks and pokes his head inside the room; only after he’s back out and nodding curtly does the whole group shuffle inside.

The only light source in the room before Prince bounds over to open the blinds are the star-shaped string lights draped along the ceiling - Eight’s not the only Octoling who thinks of home. Pearl makes some irritated grumbles and wriggles back under the covers as the first rays of the sun begin to creep into the room. Marina chuckles, still a bit dazed from sleep, and looks around the room with a little grin.

“I was wondering why I smelled something burning. You made us breakfast?”

“Surprise!” Prince shouts, throwing his arms out. “It’s for the Splatfest! Pancakes and, uh... _some_ waffles.”

“I swear we aren’t biased.” Eight says solemnly. “I swear that I’ll also get you a new waffle iron.”

“Whozza _what_ with the waffle iron?” Pearl finally emerges from under the covers as Eight lays the tray down on the bed, hand whipping out and snatching a strawberry from the fruit cup. “...whoa whoa whoa _wait_. Did _you_ make all of this?”

“Well-“

“Aside from the mishap with the waffle iron, the two of them are getting very accomplished with cooking.” Emperor says loudly, talking over Eight. “I’d still suggest supervision for a least a while longer, but they’re not exactly children anymore. They came up with this idea themselves.”

“It is very sweet,” Marina says, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Do they taste okay?” Prince asks. He’s doing that hovering thing he does when he’s trying not to look as anxious as he really is. 

“Let me let you in on a secret,” Pearl says, upending a bottle of syrup over the pancake stack. “Food made by your fam _always_ tastes okay.”

“Better than okay, even-”

“-the _best_.”

“But really, you didn’t have to go through all this effort just for us. We’ve been getting promotional pancakes and waffles all week.” Marina scoots a chunk of waffle around on the plate, watching as Pearl blithely carries on demolishing the pancake stack. “What about you three? You must be hungry after all the cooking.”

“I’m fine,” Eight says quickly, although his stomach disagrees loudly and immediately. Prince breaks into stifled giggles and Emperor rolls his eyes, but Eight can see the corner of his mouth twitching.

“...Tell you what. Give us a few minutes to get ready and we’ll go out and get something together. How does that sound?”

**Author's Note:**

> hot tip from a former profreshional baker: while you can use the same batter for pancakes and waffles, you should ideally use a batter with more fat in for waffles. that'll give the waffles an airier crumb and a crisper crust!
> 
> i am personally team waffle because...american pancakes are too sweet and fluffy whoops. i prefer pfannekuchen!


End file.
